


Mirror Glass

by CaptainYesaniChan



Category: Minecraft diaries - Fandom, aphmau - Fandom
Genre: Demon!Travis, Gen, Pre-Canon, Stories of the Past Zine, child!travis, hey you wanna know why travis has a human form? wanna know where he got his tomb from?, no? too bad fuckers., wanna see travis be ostracized?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23113360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainYesaniChan/pseuds/CaptainYesaniChan
Summary: Lonely little boy wandering the snowy mountains, staring at his reflection.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Mirror Glass

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I was one of the writers for the Stories of the Past zine, which is all about MCD! go check out the full zine over on the zine tumblr(aphmauzine) or instagram(aphmau.zine)!!
> 
> and of course i'm on tumblr(masterofanythingandnothing) to talk about fics!

**He** could draw on the glass with his finger, and make all sorts of things. He drew wolves and rabbits, deer jumping through the air and dozens of trees. He would do this for hours upon hours, until his mother came walking up the path, a heavy bag of things in her hands for him to help with. She always scolded him for smudging up the glass before admiring all the little things he had drawn. She’d tug him into her lap and point at each one and ask about it, it was his favorite thing to tell her all these little stories he had come up with while he waited for her to come home.

Momma would make dinner and they would eat before he’d start yawning and she’d scoop him up and take him upstairs. He loved it when she tucked him into the heavy blankets and would tell story after story until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. Then the sun would eventually rise, hitting his eyes until he jumped out of bed.

That was how he spent his days, sprawled on the floor of the house with books and toys everywhere or outside in the yard stalking after rabbits and jumping into the snow piles. Sometimes, however, he would sneak too far away from the house, and break one of his momma’s rules. 

On those rare occasions, he would stand perfectly still peeking out from behind a tree. Kids much bigger than him would run around screaming and throwing snow at each other. He could clamber up into the branches and look down at them curiously. It didn’t make sense why they would laugh when they got hit with snowballs, wouldn’t it hurt? His tail would swish behind him in frustration as he tried to figure out just why they were having so much fun.

But the sun would start to set and he would have to scamper home and dust off the snowflakes before his ears would pick up the sound of snow crunching under heavy boots. And then momma would swing open the door and scoop him up into a bear hug. 

He was to stay away from the village, she always said. And he always listened, even when he got right to the edge of the crowd of homes and could almost feel the heat of their fires. He was small and could lurk behind walls and piles of wood, perfect places to watch unfamiliar faces go about their day.

He liked watching them, especially just before sundown, in those few minutes between the sunset and his momma starting her trek up the mountain, right when he would have to run home before her. The village was loud right at sundown, people running home to light candles against the night. Those kids would run back home and disappear behind their mothers’ skirts, leaving the snowy field behind for the next day. 

She was never any the wiser, always kneeling down in the doorway for a hug as snow blew up in the wind behind her. A wide smile that he never saw when he caught glimpses of her in town before he’d duck behind something so that she wouldn’t she could turn and see him. 

He wondered what the market she apparently often visited looked like, but it was too far into town for him to risk the danger. He couldn’t run into alleys fast enough or climb across the rooftops well enough to avoid being seen in the bright daylight. The sun shined and bounced on the snow, making hiding a demanding task. 

Since he couldn’t quite visit the town, the rest of the island would have to do. He had to stay away from the shore, people always were there. So he crept up the mountainside instead, leaving trails of rocks and sticks stuck into the snow behind him, climbing further and further each day. And as the sun sank into the sea he would run down and dust off the snowflakes. 

**It** was another day like the others, seeking a new view of the ocean and the tops of the spruce trees. And there, perched on top of a rough cut of stone not yet covered in snow, he looked down the cliffside to where a cave was tucked away. It was oddly dark down there even with the tall spruce trees eating up the sun, but that wouldn’t deter him. He jumped, claws digging into the soft flesh of tree roots and offering support for his small body. He could crawl down the side using the small ledges offered by the stone until his leather boots hit the thick bed of snow covering the bottom. 

The cave was a little easier to see into now that he was on the ground, and he could walk underneath most of the ice that dripped from the ceiling without any trouble. He liked how his eyes could see in the dark, even if only in black and white. He didn’t want to carry a torch like the villagers did whenever they went around at night, it looked heavy and troublesome. 

It was narrow and he only had to stretch his arm out to brush the walls. A place so small that only he could get to easily was interesting, and his heart started to race at the idea of there being a prize at the end. Maybe a treat or something precious he could keep on his bedside table and show his momma when she got home. How would he explain it though? He had gone very far from the house today and she’d likely get upset. Could he say that it was near the house? Would she believe that?

His thoughts kept him too busy and he stumbled over his feet. He landed on the ground and hissed. His knees hurt from the fall and he had to try very hard not to cry, but it hurt. He looked over and tried to see through his welling eyes what had made him tumble over. His sleeves were long and he wiped away his tears with them so he could see clearly. He had to slowly crawl across the ground, trying not to scrape up his knees even more and ruin his pants.

It looked like a book, and he realized it was. There was a stupid book on the ground of the cave and it made him trip over because it was thick and full of wrinkled pages. He picked the stupid thing up and tried to see if he could figure out what it said, but his eyes could only help so much.

He didn’t want to explore the cave anymore. Instead, he carried the book out with him and blinked in the sunshine. He could see the ocean, and the village was far off to his right but it was there. The sun was getting closer to the horizon by the minute but he still had ages before the sky would turn orange. He could continue going around the island, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to know what this stupid book was because someone left it in that cave. He turned left and went looking for a way back up the mountain.

**It** was nice and warm inside the house, and he shook his hair free of snow before tossing off his coat. Curling up into the corner of the couch he pried the old book open and squinted. It was hard to read, the writing was complicated. His eyes ran down the pages quickly and flipped through them without much thought, only pausing whenever there was some image to look at. Sketches of circles filled with smaller circles and symbols, different plants he’d never seen, even a few creatures. Mouths full of teeth and clusters of eyes, he didn’t like the sight. 

Did he look like that? He didn’t have venom or dozens of eyes though, but maybe people can’t tell the difference sometimes. He thought that a large log was a bear that one time, it was an easy mistake. He ran his tongue along the fronts of his fangs as he skimmed the pages, not focusing on the words or pictures anymore.

He hissed and immediately reached up to touch his tongue, he just had to bite it didn’t he? It hurt and he curled it back hoping to ignore how much it stung. He looked back down at the book and tried reading some of it out loud, maybe it would help. 

He stopped after the first few words because they didn’t sound like anything. His momma didn’t talk like this, and definitely no one in the village did. Maybe he should stop… 

Shaking his head he started over again, it was only a few short lines it wouldn’t hurt. Stumbling over a phrase made him growl in frustration as he went back to the beginning. Something out of the corner of his eye moved and he jumped, the hairs on his tail standing on end. 

It was one of his toys, a wooden deer, and it was… floating? It was barely off the table and wobbling but it definitely was. He poked it curiously and retracted, scared what it could do. When it only just shook a bit before balancing back out he let out a sigh. But now he was confused, why was it floating like that? 

He went back to the book, watching the deer in case it decided to do anything else. It was starting to get easier to read through the first few lines, and he could fly through them before hitting a wall in the later bits. 

The deer floated a little higher and he nearly smacked it out the air. Why was it doing that?

He got through another line easily, now it was just the very last one. The deer was steadily floating a good foot in the air now and he was wondering just what he was reading. Was he doing this? The last line finished and he looked up at the deer, which was now rising very quickly to the ceiling.

Panicking he tried to grab it, but couldn’t quite reach even if he jumped. If his momma saw she would have so many questions. She’d find out he was sneaking around where he wasn’t supposed to! He tried to jump for it again and leap off the couch only to hit the floor, empty-handed. 

Something else hit the floor with him and he spun around to see what it was. The book had fallen, still on the same page. He had an idea and grabbed the book, rattling off those words once more. 

He glanced down at his feet and yelped because they weren’t touching the floor anymore, and was getting farther and farther away from it every second. Squirming around, he got within an arm’s reach of the toy and snatched it out the air triumphantly. Now how was he going to get down?

He was panicking again, he didn’t think this far ahead. Would it wear off? Or would he be stuck bumping his head against the ceiling forever? 

Wait, he still had that book in his other hand! Tucking the toy under his arm he opened the book up again, clutching to it for dear life. He scoured the pages, trying to find anything that might bring him back down to the floor. The words still confused him, he wasn’t sure if any of them looked familiar enough to understand.

His hands were too small, and the book started to slip. Scrambling to keep a hold of it only made it land on the floor a distance away from him.

Blinking didn’t help, his eyes already welling up. This was all his fault and he wanted to scream. Rubbing at his face didn’t help, the tears flowing so fast they could replace the freshly dried ones immediately. He felt sick and heavy, like a stone that would sink to the bottom of the ocean. He didn’t like floating in the air, and the way he bobbed around like an apple. 

He missed standing on the floor with his own two feet.

Sobbing was loud and messy, but all he could do. He crumbled into a ball and pressed his head against the wooden floor.

He opened his eyes, before jumping back. How did he get back on the floor? He knocked on the floor a few times, checking it was real. It seemed to be and he could stand up if a little shaky on his legs.

**The** forest was always quiet, with only animal chatter and the wind to accompany him as he walked down the mountainside. But as the trees slowly thinned out the sounds of the animals would be overpowered by laughter just as shrill and high-pitched as his own voice. He lingered behind one of the last few trees at the edge of the forest and kicked his feet into the snow. 

They weren’t all that different from him, right? Even if meeting so many people he could never put a name to was a first for him. He knew their faces, that was enough right? He could do this, he could.

They were throwing snowballs at each other again, this time they had built up little walls of snow to duck behind and dodge the incoming projectiles. He wanted to laugh along with them and knelt down into the snow to scoop some up into a ball. 

There would be a perfect moment, he could feel it and his tail swished in the snow faster. One of them had poked out from behind their hiding spot, facing him directly without even seeing him. He threw his arm back and did his best to line up the throw, before releasing it.

It landed squarely in their face and he couldn’t help but celebrate to himself, throwing his hands up in the air with a small cheer. He watched them look around trying to see where it had come from, before looking at the forest in confusion.

Their eyes didn’t see him, even brushing across him from where he was still pressed against the tree trunk. But they shouted something and pointed into the forest. They didn’t see him, right? 

He shook his head and thought about it. Maybe he should say hello? Would that be the best?

The flying snowballs slowed down, the others had stopped and started looking at the forest with that same confused look.

He moved slightly out from behind the tree, holding his hands in front of himself. His heart was thumping and he felt a little sick to his stomach. But he took a step forward anyway. It brought him closer to them but they didn’t react at all, so he took another. And another. 

He lost track of how many steps he had taken, but they finally started to see him. The branches of pine needles still shadowing him, and he was right at the edge where the white sun-covered snow met the forest. One last step brought him out from under the cover of the trees.

“You look weird,” one of them said loudly, before getting hushed.

He held himself and tried to keep himself still, he didn’t want to spook them like the rabbits he chased. 

One walked closer, the one he had thrown the snowball at, “You have horns like my dad’s goat. Are you a goat?”

He was confused, he wasn’t a goat! Not at all! “Goats don’t talk.”

They continued, “I don’t have horns, why do you?”

“I don’t know,” he wanted to be honest, it seemed right to be. 

“Can I touch them?”

He nodded and tilted his head a bit to make it easier. He didn’t like touching his own horns, it tickled too much. But they barely had reached up and taken hold of one before letting go.

“Well, they feel like the goat’s horns. But goats don’t have tails like that either.”

“Goats don’t have a lot of things, like clothes.”

They crossed their arms, “They don’t need them because they have fur. It keeps them warm.”

He looked up at them and huffed, “I know that. And I’m not a goat.”

The kid shook their head, “You don’t look like a person.”

“Yes, I do!”

They poked him in the face, making him scrunch up his nose. “I’ve never seen anyone with grey skin!”

He puffed out his cheeks and stamped his foot, “Well I do! Let me play with you!”

“Why should we?”

He grinned, “Because I’m good at throwing snowballs.”

Someone else spoke up, “He’s got a point.”

They glared at them, “It was a lucky shot, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Let me play with you! It wasn’t a lucky shot, I’ll prove it!” He quickly made a snowball and threw it at one of the other kids, right in the chest. He made another and hit someone in the stomach as well. “See? I’m good!”

They groaned and grabbed his arm, “Fine but you have to be on my team!”

The others complained and whined, but he could only grin some more, “Ok!”

It had only felt like a second, maybe two before the sun was nearing the horizon. He froze, bent behind a short wall of packed snow. He had to go home, but the rest of the kids weren’t going home yet so why should he?

Calls came from the thicket of wood and brick homes, human calls that would never match those of the forest. The children had stopped with him, moaning and groaning about the approaching night. Torches came with the calls, growing brighter and louder as they neared.

He stood frozen as one of those torches was pushed into his face, and spit landed on his eye. He rubbed at it, coming away with fast-running tears. The calls were loud, so loud they hurt his ears. 

He was whimpering, their yells making him want to run away as they swiped their torches at him. It got too close and he bit his lip to shut himself up. He was such a crybaby… it stung too much and he finally could feel himself move.

The cold evening air soothed his skin as he ran up the mountain in the shadows of the trees.

**He** watched his momma disappear over the hill and down the mountain, and ran away from the window and up the narrow stairs and tugged open the door of his mother’s bedroom. She had a small mirror there, a little shiny thing you could hold by a handle and shine sunlight at things if you were precise enough. He grabbed a stack of books and dropped them onto a chair, then carefully set the mirror against them so he could use it. 

The sheet of glass shone back at him showing him his familiar grey face and big purple eyes. His hair was in the mess that it always was and he pushed it back as he leaned in closer to the mirror to grin at himself. Pulling at his gums he studied his sharp teeth, they could hurt his tongue if he accidentally bit it. His tail danced behind him, the soft tuft of fur at the end waving at him. 

He remembered what those kids looked like, all colors of reddish browns or yellowy whites. None of them had grey skin like him or a tail that helped them balance when they climbed up snow-filled trees or scaled the sides of their houses to sit on the roof. Maybe they didn’t have to worry about biting their tongue or ripping up the curtains with claws as well. 

He ran down the short hallway and slid on the wooden floor to reach under his bed, his short arms digging around until his hand caught hold of the book’s spine. He clutched it carefully, the rubies embedded in it shining back at him with a wink. Running back to his mother’s room he opened it and flipped through the pages. He wanted that spell, the one he saw the other day. The page appeared, worn and wrinkled with age and spilled drinks. The ink still sharp despite the damage, he could read it with a little effort and understand most of the words. Some were long and complicated, with swirls and lines filling the letters. 

His finger carefully went across each line, as he whispered the words to himself trying to familiarize himself with it. He didn’t want a repeat of last time, cleaning up after that wasn’t fun at all. He looked up at the mirror, still sitting on the chair and winking at him with sunlight. He knew his face, the one that glanced back at him with big worried eyes. Would it work? He was asking himself? Would you look back at this mirror and still see me?

He shook his head and laid the book down flat, smoothing down the pages. The words were still strange in his mouth, even if his tongue could form the sounds with ease. His ears still confused at what they were hearing, it was so different. No one in the village spoke like this, with rough chokes and airy whispers. But he did now, he could talk like that. Like one of those weird chittering things, he had seen those days before. He didn’t like the way they climbed up trees so easily, short tails keeping them perfectly balanced on even the narrowest of branches as they sneered down at him. 

He liked momma and the way she was. Walking with determined steps, her hair pulled back from her warm face that always had a smile for him. Straight rows of teeth that never hurt her, and hands that could hold his tightly without piercing the skin. Her eyes reminded him of those blades of grass that would fight their way out from underneath the snow that matched her, and his, hair. 

His finger had reached the bottom of the page, tracing out the last few lines for him to say around a mouth full of sharp fangs and his pointed tongue. The last syllable fell flat on his tongue and the room was quiet save for the birds outside the window. Nothing seemed different, but maybe yet? He glanced right at the mirror.

Violet eyes looked back and slowly welled full of tears that fell down his still grey skin. It didn’t work, he slowly realized. His head hurt the same way it did with the last spell he cast though, it didn’t make sense. It hurt and his chest hurt and he suddenly wanted to hide somewhere. He slammed the awful book shut and stood up to go throw it out. His legs didn’t feel quite right though, they were shaking. That was a first, and his hands were as well. He couldn’t hold onto the thick book anymore and let it slip through his short fingers as he fell to his knees. It suddenly got quieter, and the birds were gone and had taken their song with them.

**The** door downstairs had slammed shut and he felt dizzy as his eyes forced themselves open. His head hurt, and his knees were bruising. 

“Travis?”

He stood up, grabbing the mirror off of the makeshift stand and staring down at it as he held it tight in sticky hands. He blinked at himself and grinned at pearly white rows of flat teeth. He spun around and around, trying to see where his tail had gone. It wasn’t whipping behind him, nowhere to be seen. 

“Travis? Baby where are you?”

He ran down the stairs, jumping off the last two to wrap his little arms around his momma’s waist. “Look! Look!”

She let go of him, her hand pausing in his hair where his horns usually would poke up at. Kneeling down she held his arms to his side, looking him up and down. “What did you do baby?”

“I look like you! See?” He shook out of her arms and spun around, “I did it myself, momma!”

“How?”

“I read a book! It has a bunch of things!”

“Travis!” He stopped, his smile dropping at her voice. “What you just did…”

“You don’t… like it?”

She held out her hand, trying to hold his cheek, “Baby no…”

He backed off, dodging her as he ran out the door. 

**It** was weird being outside without the sun, the trees looked different as he weaved around them. He nearly slipped, sliding down the face of the mountain before tumbling into the snow. He felt cold and stiff, running towards the clearing even if he didn’t know why. 

The village was quiet, only a few figures walking around from place to place, never leaving their safety of the lantern light. And he stayed back, where they couldn’t see him sitting down in the snow where ice could grow over him if it wanted. They were chattering to themselves, he guessed this was normal for them to do every night. He wondered what would happen if he walked up to them, would they still recognize him? How would they react?

The snow crunched behind him and he turned around. She had followed him down the mountain and wrapped her arms around him, sitting cross-legged. “Is that why you learned how to do this baby? You learned magic cause of them?”

He nodded, sniffing.

“I know, I know. But some people… some people can’t see past the silliest things,” she paused, ruffling his hair, “It’s amazing you could cast that spell, for such a little boy.”

“Really?”

“Mmhmm, no one else can do that.”

“No one else looks like me.”

“No one else is you, my baby boy. You get to be you, someone who’s amazing.”


End file.
